


Everybody Got This Broken Feeling

by winter_angst



Series: Detective AU [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Abuse, M/M, Pining, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Jack and Brock have made detective which means time away from each other. But when a serial killer strikes in Jack's hometown the duo get back together to solve it. And if one of them develops feelings along the way then, well, it's just how the dice fall.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Riley/Sam Wilson
Series: Detective AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910242
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Everybody Got This Broken Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> the animal abuse tag is because of a scene where a dog is hurt. The dog does not die. 
> 
> title from Everybody Knows by Sigrid 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

If there was one complaint Jack had about making detective, it was that he and Brock didn’t work together often anymore. Hollywood boasted an image of a pair, one rough and tumble, down to play dirty to get the bad guy while the other was a soft back up, a voice of reason who always, by some twist, manages to nab the guy. In reality, the station was spread too thin and detectives were sent on singular assignments. Last Jack knew Brock was working the Sex Crime taskforce while their head detective was out on paternity leave. Occasional they’d radio back and forth, mock each other for their less than ideal positions. Reminisce about their last five years together. 

“How goes it Detective?” 

Clint had his feet perched up on the table. He’d move officially to work the night show. How he managed to spend anytime with Natasha was anyone’s guess. Bruce suggested it had to do with her pregnancy. Natasha was a force to reckon with when she wasn’t carting around an extra 10 pounds. Despite Jack’s best attempts he knew they weren’t friends. Rumor around the precinct was that the DEA were actively trying to slip her out from Rogers’ thumb and he was putting up a hell of a fight because they were spread thin enough as is. Clint refused to deny or confirm so people stopped asking. 

“Going.” 

It was one of those far too slow nights where Jack got caught up on paperwork and prepped evidence for an upcoming trial he’d be speaking at. 

“Your buddy is on tonight. Wanna call him?”

“Brock?” Jack turned eagerly. “I thought he was off the late show.” 

“He got called in. It was a bullshit call, some ass peeping into his neighbor’s window.” 

Jack could only imagine how Brock would have dealt with getting that call. Not that it wasn’t an important call, it sure as fuck was, but calling in a Detective was unnecessary. Any uniform could have handled it. But, cases like that involved a ton of paperwork and that something all uniforms wanted to push off. Jack could attest to that, he and Brock did so on more than one occasion. 

“Sure.” Jack didn’t want to seem too eager but it had been almost a month since their last sunrise Denny's visit. 

Clint grinned and scooted back up to his monitor and grabbed a rover, fiddling with it a moment before he all but shouted, “Rumlow!”

There was a moment of silence and then it squawked and Rumlow said, “Fuck you Barton. Just spilled my goddamn coffee.” 

Clint looked apologetic. “Poor coffee. Anyway, I got your best buddy here and he wanted to talk to you.” 

The silence was shorter. “Rollins?”

“Mmhm.” Clint held out the rover and Jack reached for it. 

He was excited to hear his voice. He wanted to ensure he was okay, wanted to hear him rant and complain. To insult him. “Jack?”

Jack swallowed dryly. “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself, asshole. Too good to text?”

Jack smiled. “You’re awake when I’m asleep.” 

“Fuck that, Rollins. No one sleeps anymore.” 

“How was your peeping-Tom case?”

“It’s an open and shut. What about you? I hear you’re fucking around in gang shit. Be careful.” 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were worried about me.” 

There was a beat of silence. “I don’t need anymore OT because some hicktown idiot gets himself killed.”

Jack laughed. 

“Hey, I’m about to go on lunch. I think I can tolerate you long enough for a taco.” 

Jack hastily agreed, grabbed a fresh rover off the charger and the keys to a slick back. Clint waved goodbye and Jack was giddy. Brock was where he always parked, leaning against the side of his car. Now they were plain clothed Jack could appreciate Brock’s body a bit more. He was well built but he still had the softened curves that made him lean rather than bulked up like he knew Brock was trying to be. Tonight had a navy button down and tan slacks. 

“Hey asshole.” 

“Hey. You order yet?”

“Nope. I know you drive like you're sixty five and I didn’t want my lunch to get cold.” 

Jack laughed. He paid for the lunch even though Brock was grumpy about it. It felt nice to reunite with his partner, to slurp on a Coke and have Brock tell him how the shit’ll eat his insides. There was no awkwardness left, years of working side by side, pulling each other out of the line of fire. But there was something about Brock that was different. He looked tired and it wasn’t just because of the late call. This was the kind of tired that came from months of not sleeping properly. 

“Do you like sex crimes?” 

Brock made a noise around his taco. “It’s good people,” Brock said. 

That wasn’t a yes but it also wasn’t a no. “So you do like it?” Jack pressed carefully.

“People do some fucked up shit to omegas, Jack. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t doing it. Sometimes I’m glad I am. It's nice to be able to throw some asshole gets off on torturing those smaller than them to the ground. To be the one being controlled.” Brock took another bite. “But the interviews get to you. The way you find some of the vics… Maybe that’s why I don’t sleep much anymore.” 

Jack’s chest ached with empathy. “If it’s bothering you should talk to Rogers about reassignment.” 

“I’m not going to ask for a reassignment Jack and if you ask I’ll shove my foot up your ass.” 

“It’s traumatic for you.” 

“No it’s not. Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t say anything to you. Sometimes you are such an Alpha,” Brock grumbled, taking a moody bite of his taco. 

If there was one thing Jack had learned about Brock it was when to let things go. “Want to hear about my gang case?”

“Sure,” Brock looked a bit less tense. “God knows you need my help.” 

** ** ** **

Jack woke up to a call from his mother. 

“Ma,” he greeted, sleepy. “What’s wrong? Is dad okay?”

“Jack,” she whispered. “They found dead people behind our house.”

That woke him up. He reached for the light. His brain was trying to process that as he fumbled around for the switch half awake. “Ma, what?”

“Dead people!” she wailed and Jack yanked the phone from his ear with a flinch. 

He finally found the switch and soon warm yellow light bathed the corner of his bedroom. Squinting at the clock he saw it was just after nine. 

“Where’s dad?”

Jack’s mother was getting older and Jack couldn’t help but need confirmation from his father. “Outside talking with Sam. They’ve put tape all around the backyard Jack! They crushed my rhododendrons.”

Jack rubbed a hand over his face trying to wake up. “Can you give the phone to Sam?”

His mother was quiet and then said, “I don’t want to see the bodies again.”

Jack’s frown deepened. People didn’t get murdered in his hometown. Rosebay, Kentucky was full of people who meant well even if they were a bit old fashioned. It was the town where everyone knew each other a bit too well, but it was steady and calm. 

“Can you go to the sliding door and call him in?”

His mother drew in a wet breath and Jack was about to tell her it was okay if she couldn’t. 

“Okay, Jack….okay.”

Jack waited quietly as he listened to her footsteps and the sound of the sliding door opening. “William, William it’s Jack.”

“Go on back inside, Ava.”

There was a rustle and then, “Jack.”

Tension Jack didn’t know he was carrying his shoulders snapped at the familiar voice. With his unforgiving work schedule he had little time for a personal life. Calls to his parents were once a day, then once a week, and now Jack was lucky to be able to get a call in a month. His parents were understanding though, unsurprisingly, worried. They didn’t understand police outside of Rosebay and Jack knew better than to clue his mother in on what he dealt with daily. She was prone to nervousness as was. 

“How many bodies?”

His father understood a bit more. He had served in the army for most of Jack’s childhood, coming home with shrapnel wounds and a leg full of metal pins. “Three. Two omegas, one beta.” 

Jack’s swallowed dryly. Was it related to the case he was currently investigating? It was an armed assault tied to the Neitas. He hadn’t prodded much, at Brock’s heavily worded suggestion, but maybe even pressing around had caused this?

“Last week there were four omegas down by the empty farm in Pham Creek.” 

Jack was wide awake now and certain this had nothing to do with his Neitas case. “Can I talk to Sam?”

“Uh, he’s with the statie. Riley is here.” 

“Sure.”

“Jack? How are you?”

“Been better,” Jack was now sitting up completely. “You got seven bodies over there?”

“Yup,” Riley sighed. “I’ll tell you these staties are making it worse. They aren’t gonna help but they wanna poke and prod at it.”

“How long between the bodies?”

“First four came in on Thursday from Pham Creek and now we’ve got these three today.” 

Three days. That was one hell of a murder spacing. “Sounds like you’ve got a serial. Do you have names?”

“Nah, no one reported any John or Jane Does so we're just sitting here like idiots.” 

Muffled voices got closer while Riley rattled off what they knew so far. Two omegas were strangled, eyes removed premortem with white roses placed in the socket. They were arranged with their arms across their chest like they were being laid to rest, smiling. The beta’s lips were wired shut (“gonna give me nightmares Jack, this like shit outta bad horror movie”) and had exactly thirteen stab wounds neatly to the chest. The Alpha had been strangled with a cord of some kind.

“Can I talk to Sam?” Jack pressed. He didn’t mean to step over Riley, he was a damn good deputy and really a nice guy, but Jack already knew he had to be there. 

“Yeah, one second.” 

“I knew she’d call you.” was Sam’s form of greeting. “I don’t blame her for being scared but… I’m sorry to have gotten you all wrapped in this, I know you’ve got your plate full with all that big city crime.” 

“I want in.” 

“No.” 

“I want in, Sam.” 

“And I said no Jack. You work for the NYPD, not our county. I’m sure you’re plenty busy as is.” 

“I have vacation time. I’ll cash in and come in as a consultant.” 

“Jack.”

“Sam.” 

“You department isn’t gonna let you fly halfway across the country to help out with a few murders.” 

Jack was frustrated. “You and I both know this is a serial killer.” 

“I know.”

“I’m coming there.” 

“I suppose I can’t stop you. If your sergeant says no, it’s a no.” 

“Deal.”

** ** ** **

“You want to spend your vacation time as consultants for a serial killer.” Rogers was deadpan, but his blue eyes were confused. 

“Yes sir,” Jack nodded his head in confirmation. “There is sexual assault on the bodies and Detective Rumlow would like to come along. As a consultant.” 

“Yes, I’m understanding it’s as consultants. This isn’t how this precinct works, Rollins.” 

“I know that sir but this case… I grew up in that town, sir. It’s very important that I go.”

Steve sighed heavily. “It’s easy for things like this to go sideways, to trip up the local law enforcement and bring a shit storm here.” 

“I used to work for the county station, sir. I promise full cooperation on both ends. They’re running the show, we’re just there as back up.” 

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay but you’re flying economy and you don’t get expense accounts for this. Besides the flight there it’s all out of pocket.” 

Jack did his best to hide his smile. “Thank you sir.” 

** ** ** **

Rogers wasn’t joking about economy. It was cramped and noisy, far too many babies for an airtight cabin in Jack’s opinion and Brock seemed to share the sentiment by his expression. Rosebay was about forty miles from Paducah. The middle of nowhere, a place where a serial killer had no business being. It was a five hour flight, minus layovers. Despite the travel aspect Jack was eager to go home, to see his ma and his father. He was practically salivating thinking about the dinner she would prepare for them. And, deep down, he was excited to show off Brock. No, show off was the wrong word. He wasn’t his omega. He was excited for him to meet them. 

“You know you’re going to the south,” Jack reminded Brock. 

Brock frowned. “Yeah, I know. Omegas should be seen not heard bullshit?”

“No. Just… You might find the way they act offensive but it’s a standard of respect.”

Brock laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, respect.” 

“Yes, respect.” Jack replied firmly. This was his home, he knew better than Brock. “They’re wary enough of outsiders without outsiders throwing their traditions back into their face.” 

Brock wrinkled his nose. It was an expression Jack knew was him accepting something he didn’t like. “Whatever.”

“Thank you.” 

Brock just grunted. 

** ** ** **

They picked up the rental car, a 2009 Ford Explorer that Jack was worried wouldn’t get them to his parents house, much less around during their time on the case. Brock demanded to drive and Jack relented as he usually did. He was nervous about introducing him to his parents. He was the opposite of every omega they had ever met and his mother, while sweet, was very upfront with her opinion. She was like Brock in that way. Opinionated and unapologetic about it. So they would either click or they would clash. 

“My mother is very… She’s very blunt.” Jack prefaced. 

They were sitting in silence because all that came in was oldies and the gospel channel. Brock wasn’t interested in either so they just listened to their ancient car putter along. 

“Blunt.” Brock echoed. “I’m not going to be treated like a damsel.” 

“I know that.” Jack knew he should be annoyed but he couldn’t help it. This was his family. His roots. Him. “I’m just asking you to bite your tongue.”

“Bite my tongue,” Brock laughed humorlessly. “That’s what they told the omegas in school.”

Jack sighed apologetically. “I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“I’m coming here to find the fucker, not to be treated like an object. I know, I know, it’s tradition or what not but I’m not about to be undermined because I’m an omega.” 

“They won’t.” 

“The hell they won’t but I’ll bite my tongue for you Jack. Because I respect you, not because I’m worried about ruffling feathers.” 

For him? Jack opened his mouth and then shut. He wasn’t sure what more to say to that besides, “Thank you.” 

** ** ** **

Jack’s childhood home was nestled under the shade of holly, magnolia and cypress trees. Behind the house was a little orchard of paw paws, peach, and pear trees. Jack remembered summers spent picking and eating them so he could sell them at a little stand he and his father made. The garden had grown in the time Jack had been in New York. Brock killed the engine as the door opened and his parents stepped out. Jack looked at Brock who pulled out his sunglasses. 

“Remember.” 

“Yeah, yeah, act like a good ol’ southern belle.” 

“Brock.” 

“I’m kidding, God. Get a sense of humor Rollins. This is our vacation right?” 

They had intended on getting hotel rooms but the closest was ten miles away and that kind of a distance would have been a pain in the ass. Plus, it was a tourist trap so the prices were inflated beyond belief. So Jack and Brock had taken up the invitation to stay at his parents’ house. Well, Jack agreed and Brock resisted as long as he could before Jack reminded him of the extra cross of needing two rentals on top of the hundred and fifty dollar fee per night. The NYPD didn’t pay nearly well enough for that. Jack and his mother had compromised that she’d allow him to buy some groceries. 

His parents were waiting by the porch swing as they exited the vehicle. Brock was hanging back for the first time in his life and it was strange. “Jack,” his mother walked down the steps. 

She was a short, stout woman, the pinnacle of a southern mama. She cared deeply and loudly for those around her. Her hair was pinned up and she had a few more lines around her green eyes than Jack remembered and he was hit with how happy he was to be in Rosebay again. She engulfed him with a hug that smelled like fresh apple pie which he hoped he’d be getting a slice of soon. Once the long tight hug was done with she looked critically up at him. 

“You look exhausted. You were supposed to take care of yourself up there.” His ma tutted. “Now who’s your friend.” 

Brock stepped forward and held out his hand. “Brock Rumlow.” 

His mother pulled him into a hug. Brock was a New Yorker and Jack couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him not to pull away in horror of a stranger holding him so tenderly. 

“Aren’t you something,” she said, pulling back. Brock was still stunned, frozen with his hand out. “You both must be tuckered out. C’mon inside. We’ll worry about your bags later.” 

Jack was aching to check out the crime scene to see if Sam and Riley had missed anything. It wasn’t that he doubted their skills, he just had to make sure. Jack held out a hand for Brock to go ahead of him and Brock shot daggers at him as he passed. Inside the smell of warm apple pie met Jack’s nose. It had been a long time since he’d had it. 

“I made some pie. Jackie’s favorite.” 

Jack’s cheeks colored at the childhood nickname and the grin Brock shot him let him know it wasn’t missed. It was worth it however, to be ushered to the big dining room table he remembered with a hearty portion of apple pie in front of him. Brock’s piece was significantly larger -- she had clearly deemed Brock to be too thin. Omegas in the area were usually expected to have those curves that Brock worked so hard to fight. He stared wide eyed at the piece and Jack did the best to avoid eye contact because Brock would want him to broach the subject and his mother would certainly tell him he would be so much prettier if he put a little weight on him. And it was too early to get into that. 

“Ma’am,” Brock began clearly not standing for being ignored by Jack. He should have expected as much, he wasn’t exactly a soft spoken omega. “I don’t think I can eat all of this.”

“I make the best pie in the county, sweetheart.” Jack looked stressfully towards Brock but he had kept his calm demeanor. “Jackie will tell you. Besides it’ll do you some good. Looks like the slightest wind will just blow you away from us!”

Brock smiled tightly and picked up the fork. “Yes ma’am.” 

His mother looked pleased as he went to pour tall glasses of sweet tea to go with the pie. If Brock had a problem with washing sugary pie down with sugary iced tea he didn’t say anything about it. But he did ask about the bodies. Jack’s mother quickly paled. Jack shot a sharp look towards Brock before his father cut in, “After y’all eat you can go out and poke around.” 

Brock nodded and looked apologetically towards Jack. 

Jack’s father was the opposite of his mother, tall and thin. He had warm brown eyes and rarely if ever yelled at Jack growing up. His childhood had been picture perfect, growing under a vast Kentucky sky. It was the polar opposite of Brock’s who, from what Jack knew, grew up in the rougher sides of Brooklyn. He was far out of his element for the first time and Jack was curious to see how he handled it. Jack finished his portion of pie first and took a gulp of his ma’s homemade sweet tea. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. He had missed this. It was so good to be back. 

Brock was still fighting through the pie and Jack took mercy on him, sliding his plate in front of himself. “Jack Rollins, I didn’t raise an animal. Give that poor omega his food back.”

A muscle in Brock’s neck jumped at the term before he said, “No, please. It’s alright. I ate more than my fill, thank you. It was lovely.” 

Jack almost choked on the pie he was chewing. Brock Rumlow never called things ‘lovely’. Jack’s mother smiled. 

“I’m glad you like it. You’ll be eaten good here, honey. See if we can get some weight on those bones, hm?”

Brock forced out a laugh. “I can’t wait.” 

He sipped on the sweet tea while Jack polished off his slice and then drained his tea. He knew that Brock was anxious to go out and get started but Jack didn’t want to be rushed right away. Jack wanted to know the town gossip (minus the stuff to do with him) and hear about his aunts and uncles. But none of that held interest for Brock. Brock was here for one reason: to solve a case. And, technically, Jack was too. They only had a week to do it before they had to fly back where Brock was a detective for Sex Crimes and Jack was on the night show for homicides. Failure wasn’t an option; Jack couldn’t disappoint his town. 

“Thanks ma,” he got up to bring the dishes to the sink but she shooed him away. 

“William, go help Jack get their bags. Brock, sweetheart, want to help me clean up?”

If Brock was annoyed to be on ‘omega duty’ he didn’t outwardly show it, scooping up dishes to bring to the farm sink below a panel of windows that overlooked the orchard. After ensuring Brock wasn’t going to pitch a fit or chew out his mother for her words, Jack felt confident to go out to the car. 

“Lookit this rig,” his father said, assessing it distastefully. “That’s what the company gave you?”

“Best they could do on short notice,” Jack replied, opening the hatch. “Thanks again for letting us stay here.” 

“You’re my boy, you come stay here anytime, you hear?”

Jack smiled. “I hear.” 

“Your omega is very pretty.” 

Jack snorted. “He’s not my omega. He’s my partner.” 

“Is that one of those city terms?”

“No, it’s a police term.”

“Well I’d say you’re missin’ out.” his father cast a look back towards the house. “He could be good for you.” 

Jack hefted Brock’s suitcase over his shoulder as he slammed the hatch shut. “I’m here to find a serial killer, not find romance.” 

“Maybe romance will find you.” he replied, Jack’s suitcase in his arms. 

Jack laughed. “Maybe.” 

Inside Brock was passing dishes to his mother to be washed. It wasn’t a sight Jack should appreciate, Brock standing there by the sink, the light from the window highlighting the bit of red in his dark hair, the backdrop of a warm, well loved kitchen behind him. All that was missing was a kid tugging at his hand to ask for a snack. 

“Jack?” 

“What?” Jack hadn’t realised he was daydreaming until his mother’s voice dragged him out of it. “Sorry.” 

“I said you should bring Brock to his room. Help get him situated.” 

“Of course, come on.” Jack set down his bag.

“Jack you better not be expectin’ that little thing to carry that big old bag up those steps.” 

“I can do it ma’am.” Brock said immediately. 

“Ah ah, what did I say about that?”

“I can do it Ava.” Brock corrected himself. 

“Nonsense.”

Brock shot an exasperated look at Jack who could offer nothing more than a shrug. His mother may have been a Beta but she fronted as an Alpha more than his father. “I’ve got it.” 

Jack grabbed the other one and started up the steep staircase. All the doors were painted white and the walls were full of photographs of the Rollins family and Jack’s childhood. He realised suddenly how personal all of this was. Having a friend here was exposing more of him that he would have been comfortable with, should the situation be different. He set down the suitcases and then rotated his arm to ensure it was still attached. There were two guest rooms, the other one down the hall by his parent’s house. This room was usually reserved for Jack’s cousins growing up. He figured Brock would be more comfortable near him versus being near them. 

He opened the door and Brock stepped in looking around. It had a sloping ceiling and boasted nothing more than a double sized bed, a nightstand with a single lamp and a dresser pressed against the wall. Argyles were hung on the walls and the window looked out at the garden. “Is this...okay?” 

“It’s fine,” Brock turned around. “It’s great, actually.”

Relief rushed into Jack. “Good.”

He turned around to pull the suitcase into the room. “When you’re ready we can go see what we can find at the crime scene.” 

“Okay…. And Jack? I’m sorry I brought it up in front of your mother.”

“It’s okay. She just doesn’t…. She doesn’t like things like that.” 

Brock nodded his head firmly. “Won’t happen again.”

** ** ** **

The police tape still lingered even though it wasn’t an active crime scene. Chances were Riley got sidetracked and forgot to pick it up...well first probably had a few beers at the bar and completely forgot. Some days Jack missed how personal crime was here. Under age drinking meant calling their father to pick them up, not detaining and filing charges. Speeding never turned to a police chase through the city, they just apologized and got a warning. Everyone knew everyone here, there was no new face showing up because the one you were used to wasn’t sick. Jack never thought he’d miss the monotonous life he’d led before transferring to New York but he did. 

There was a white paint outlining where the bodies had been. Jack picked up the tape while Brock crouched down looking beneath the bushes. “Sam and Riley are good at their jobs.” 

Brock murmured something that wasn’t quite agreement. Jack felt compelled to defend them. 

“There’s never been a murder here. You can’t expect them to be as well versed as us.” 

“Hey Jack?”

“Yeah?” 

“Mind shutting the fuck up so I can focus?”

Jack muttered under his breath but obediently quieted himself. He didn’t think anything would have been missed with a statie being called in but Brock liked to make sure of these things himself. It took about ten minutes before Brock stood up. 

“You can stop shutting up now. Where are the keys?”

“In my pocket. You aren’t really planning on going to the station right now.” 

“That’s exactly what I plan to do.” 

“We just spent over six hours getting here. It’s almost four.”

“Let’s go.” he said again. “Do I need to remind you that we only have a certain amount of time to solve this? I’m not about to wait around for clues to fall into my lap, are you?”

Jack sighed. He had a point of course but Jack was eager to see more of his parents. To be hugged by his mother a few more times, as embarrassing as it was. But making sure his parents and town were safe was more important. Plus, the sooner they solved it the more time he’d have to spend with them. “Okay,” Jack relented. “Let’s just go say goodbye.” 

“Need mommy’s permission to leave?” teased Brock quietly.

“Yup.” 

His parents were in the living room, his father flipping through channels while his mother worked on knitting what would probably be a sweater for Jack come Christmas. 

“We’re going to head down to see Sam and Riley.” 

His mother frowned. “You only just got there. This isn’t the big city where you gotta rush off all the time.” 

“It’s important that we see the mur--that we get the facts, Ava.” Brock said, sparing Jack from having to argue. 

“Well… If you have to I suppose we can’t keep you. But you both best be back for dinner. We’re having Jack’s favorite.” 

Jack felt a surge to childish excitement. Most kids probably grew up loving pizza but Jack’s vice was his ma’s fried green tomatoes. Nothing could hold a candle to it. Despite the pie he’d just eaten he was starving at the mere mention. “We’ll definitely be here,” Jack assured her because they absolutely would be on time. 

“Alright.” he said. “And you boys be careful now, you hear? I told Sam to make sure you don’t work yourself to bone.”

“It’ll be an open and shut,” Brock said. 

“Open and shut what, dear?”

Brock’s cheeks colored. “I… It’s a cop term. An open and shut case. It’ll be easy to solve.” 

“I don’t know about that sweetheart. Sam and Riley say it’s a very tough case and those are two very bright boys. Sam was valedictorian, you know.” 

“I know ma. We’ll back soon okay?” 

“Well give your poor ma a hug then.” 

Jack was glad to and Brock didn’t seem as shocked by the hug she gave him. His father gave him a curt nod. Brock let Jack drive because he said Jack gave horrible directions. Jack thought it was because he was tired even though he wouldn’t admit it. The station was situated in town, a squat building with a sign out front that said ‘Rosebay Sheriff's Station’. Jack parked around back, the cracked concrete filled in a bit with asphalt was familiar and Jack smiled a bit. Both police cars were there so Jack had a feeling they were both in. Jack had spent most of his time in the station as well, bored to tears. 

The station was dead, as expected. Riley was at the front desk where Shelley usually was, kicked back and reading one of those awful grocery store romance books. “Still working hard, I see.” 

Riley threw down the book and hurried around the desk to give Jack a hug. “Oh man, I’m so happy to see you.” the Beta said. 

“Same to you.” They pulled apart as Sam's door opened. “Hey there Sheriff.” 

“Detective -- and this is the sex crimes detective right?” 

“Yes.” Brock stepped forward. “Where’s your murder book.” 

“Our what now?” Riley cocked his head. 

“I’ve got a file in my office. All work, huh?” Sam cast a skeptical look towards Brock and Jack hastened to fix it. 

“He’s passionate about what he does.” Passionate was a good adjective for omegas.

Sam’s dark eyes softened a bit. “It’s some very disturbing stuff. Jack told me you work in sex crimes but this… This is grisly.” 

By some miracle Brock hadn’t bitten Jack’s head off for using such a passive word for his work. “I’ve seen some grisly stuff,” Brock replied. “I think I can handle it.”

Sam watched him a moment, looking for a waver in his determination. When he didn’t see one he nodded. “Murder book, huh.” he commented heading towards his office. “You city people, I’ll never understand.” 

Brock glanced back at Jack with a coy smile, pleased at his success. Jack smiled back. He was glad that Brock wasn’t butting heads with his friends. “It must be crazy out there,” Riley said leaning against the desk. “I can’t even imagine how noisy it must be.”

“It’s something,” Jack agreed. “Took me ages to get used to it. They’re not kidding when they say the city never sleeps.” 

Riley made a sympathetic noise and then turned his attention towards Brock. “Jack hasn’t told me much about you. Well, he hasn’t been telling anything much lately,” a playful but pointed look was cast his way. Jack expected to be scolded for his lack of communication. They wouldn't understand the amount of work he did. “Sex crimes huh?” 

“It wasn’t my first pick but the usual detective is out so I’m filling in for a couple months -- assuming he comes back.” Brock scowled a little at that. That information was new to Jack. “It’s not pretty but someone’s gotta do it.” 

“Well good for you protecting those omegas.”

“It’s not just omegas. Alpha, betas… It can be anyone.” 

Riley’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh wow. That’s a whole lot for you to carry, don’t you think?”

Brock offered a tight smile and thankfully Sam emerged from his back office. “I handle it.” Brock said shortly and turned towards the Rosebay Sherrif. “That the murder file?” 

“It is.”

Brock took and the two of them grabbed a seat by the little coffee set up to read it over. It had all the same contents as the murder book from back in the city: photographs, sketches, forensic reports, transcripts of Riley and Sam’s notes, and the interviews from the owner of the land in Pham Creek where the first four bodies were found and the one conducted with his mother and father. The file was painfully thin and the investigation was practically at a standstill. But now they were there, that was going to change. 

Hopefully. 

The smile the omegas had was the unnerving. The dead don’t smile so the killer had to have held their lips up for hours until rigor mortis set in. That was dedication, these kills were personal.

“So, seeing anything we missed?” Sam was leaning against the wall, trying to seem casual but the worry written across his forehead told a completely different story. 

“They’re all Jane and John Does. The medical examiner says all teeth were removed and the fingerprints burned off with lye. Bodies soaked in bleach so no DNA was left. I take it that identification is an issue, probably no missing persons in a town like this.” 

“Unless someone goes a two day bender, nope. This is a quiet town, things like this don’t happen.” 

“Lye,” Jack echoed, mulling it over. “It’s not something commonly bought.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Riley said with a grin. 

Brock snorted and Sam gave him a sharp look. 

“What?” Riley protested. “That was funny.” 

“People are dead, Riley.” 

“You know what else is dead? You sense of humor,” Riley replied. 

“Back on topic,” Sam said. “I can check with Al and see if he’s sold any recently.”

“I don’t think our killer is shopping at his dump site.” Brock argued. “We’ll have better luck if we check in surrounding counties.” 

Jack looked down at the open file. At the pale, still bodies, naked and pale. He tried not to look at the omegas face, at their eerie smiles. One photograph was them undisturbed with bright fresh roses where their eyes were meant to be. The next showed empty voids. It was unnerving and sad. Jack flipped the file shut feeling a bit sick. 

“Tomorrow morning we’ll look around.” Jack said and Brock shot him a look of annoyance. “We’ve been travelling for a while.” 

“Good, get some rest. We’re not going to hunt down this monster if you’re exhausted.” Sam agreed. “Besides, I’m sure Ava is whipping something special up. All week she’s been telling people you’re visiting.”

Jack’s face flushed. 

“And that he’s bringing an omega he met in the city,” Riley added much to Jack’s dismay. 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck with a forced laugh. “Uh, yeah.”

“Can I take this?” Brock asked, holding up the folder. 

Sam considered it, frowning just a little bit like he did when they were kids and he was weighing his choices. “I guess that wouldn’t hurt. I know you guys are taking point in this but I still need everything reported back to me. You’re here as consultants.”

“I know, I know. Rogers gave us the whole rundown.” Brock waved the folder dismissively. “Don’t make waves, try not to kill anyone.”

Sam looked alarmed and Jack cut in, “He’s just being dramatic. Our goal is to get this settled peacefully.” 

Brock was smart enough to keep his mouth shut this time. “I should hope so. We’ll see you here tomorrow at eight to make a game plan, alright? Get some rest.” 

When Jack was settled behind the steering wheel Brock exhaled heavily. “Well that could have gone much worse, right?” 

It could have gone a whole lot better but Jack didn’t think lingering on that would be productive. Brock would just get defensive and then they’d be going in circles. “Sam is good people.” 

“I like the Beta better. What was his name again?” 

“Riley.” 

“Riley, yeah. He gets it.”

Jack had to agree. He had been a good friend in school and a good fellow officer afterwards. The ride to the house was quiet, Brock’s nose buried in the file. Brock was single minded in that way, and it made him one hell of a detective. Jack knew if there was anyone who could bust this case wide open it was Brock. Jack was just the sidekick. At home Jack’s mother was in the kitchen and his father was watching the news. It felt like he had stepped backwards in time, coming home from riding bikes with his friends for supper. It made his heart flutter a bit in a way he couldn’t describe. 

“You okay?” Brock murmured quietly so his mother wouldn’t hear. 

“Yeah.” Jack swallowed back his emotions. “C’mon.” 

When the screen door shut she turned around with a smile. “Oh good you’re back! Brock, would you be a dear and help me?”

“Uh, sure. Do you mind if I run this upstairs?” Brock waved the folder in the air. 

“Of course not. Just wash up and meet me here. Jack, I think your father wanted to have a word with you.” 

Jack nodded, glancing back at Brock’s back as he ascended the steps. He definitely didn’t look down at the way his jeans hugged his ass. “Dad?”

He shut off the television and pointed for Jack to sit which he did. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing here, Jack.” Jack knew better to think this was about the case. “This kind of stuff has no business around an omega. I raised you better than that.”

“Brock isn’t like other omegas. They’re different in the city,” Jack explained. “He can more than handle this.” 

Dark eyes met his and Jack noticed the lines around his eyes and mouth. That feeling from earlier hit him again. He needed to call more. He needed to visit more. He… He needed to cherish the time he left. 

“I hope you’re right.” 

“I am.” Jack promised. “He’ll blow you away. He blew me away.” 

“I can tell,” his father hinted at a smile. “He’s very pretty. A bit thin but your mama is fixing that. I think he could be for you.” 

Jack had no response for that. None at all. He knew if Brock heard his father call him pretty he’d lose his mind but… Well, Brock was a looker, he had all the traits of an appealing mate and that… That was something that would get him in trouble. He respected Brock as his partner and he didn’t want to lose the relationship they’d gained. It hadn’t been easy, it had been a long rocky trip and Jack wasn’t ready to try and risk having to start from scratch. In a perfect world, maybe. 

“He’s my partner, dad. Nothing more.” 

After thinking it over, his father sighed quietly. “Oh, that’s a shame. I think you two would get along well. He reminds me of your mother a bit. Strong. Rollins don’t marry weak omegas.”

“Thank you dad.” Jack said, trying to dismiss the topic. Jack didn’t want to risk saying something that would encourage match making efforts. If his father thought this then so did his mother. And that was going to make for a long week. 

“I’m gonna go see if ma needs help in the kitchen.” 

His father nodded reaching for the remote. 

The kitchen was a shocking scene. Brock, Brock Rumlow, Brock “I’m Not That Kind of Omega” had an apron tied around his waist chopping green tomatoes while his mother prepared the dredge and egg mix. Jack was frozen in place, something about seeing Brock making his favorite dish in a homestyle kitchen was just… Jack wanted to take a photograph, save this moment in history. 

“Don’t just stand there,” his mother said and Brock turned to look at him. “Will you grab me a cast iron skillet?”

They were in the same base cabinet they were in his childhood and he passed it to her. Brock twisted around to give him a funny look. Jack pointedly tried to avoid his gaze heading to the fridge for another glass of sweet tea. He tried to buy some at the grocery store once but it didn’t hold a candle to the real stuff. His mother turned her attention to Brock while the pan heated on the burner. 

“Oh those are just beautiful. You can’t tell me you don’t have kitchen experience.”

“None,” Brock said. “I’m more of a take out guy.” 

“It’s an important skill for omegas,” she said and Jack’s blood ran cold. “Here, at least. Things are probably different in the big city, hm?”

“Yes.” Brock somehow didn’t even look offended. “But cooking probably is a life skill for everyone.”

“Well, I suppose not everyone is lucky enough to get an omega like you. So they best know or else they’ll starve.” 

“Amen to that.” 

Jack tried to help but his mother shooed him back to the table. Jack drank his tea, trying not to enjoy how nice Brock looked wearing an apron, cooking dinner. It was a dangerous line of thought and one that made him feel guilty. Jack respected Brock, regarded him as his equal, his partner. Not at an omega to be settled. Brock finished up his role and Jack’s mother also dismissed him to sit at the table. Brock sat across from Jack, eyes troubled. “What’s on your mind?” 

“The case.” Brock remembered not to bring up the details around his mother; Jack appreciated that. “It’s just… I keep thinking about the number of victims. They’re someone, someone is missing them. I think we should canvas beyond the county. Dumping grounds aren’t always in the hunting grounds.” 

Jack didn’t think his mother could hear over the sizzle of the tomatoes. Jack wanted to agree but there was always the chance that the close times between dumping suggested they were already deviating from his usual pattern. That or it was a wildly unskilled killer but their cleanup was too good. Every orifice had been bleached and scrubbed with a steel wool by the bit of debris left over, that was skill. Removing the teeth so they couldn’t compare dental work was ingenious, burning off the fingerprints was a smart word but cutting out the omega’s eyes was just sick. 

“We should definitely talk to Sam and Riley around it.” 

That concluded their case conversation because Jack’s mother recruited them to make a cucumber salad. Brock volunteered to chop up the cucumbers and onions so Jack was stuck making creamy dill sauce for the tomatoes and on standby to add vinaigrette to the salad. Jack had to go to the garden to get the dill, then destem it while Brock leaned back with a glass of sweet tea. He didn’t mind, not really, but he still glared at Brock who grinned. He set aside his pile of dill and got to mixing mayo and sour cream together in a mixing bowl before going to the fridge and tossing a lime to Brock who caught it looking confused. 

“You’re chopping.” Jack replied cockily.

Brock snuck a look at Jack’s mother and then flipped him off. When the lime was halved Jack squeezed the juice in before folding in the dill. When the sauce had ma’s seal of approval he added the vinaigrette to the salad and they set the table together. Jack was certain he wasn’t going to get used to seeing Brock acting domestically. He considered giving himself permission to enjoy but it felt like he was betraying Brock. Brock who looked so good adjusting the cutlery, straightening the table cloth where it had been creased, standing up and admiring what he had done. No, Jack was better than this. Or at least he thought he was. 

“Jack, go get your father for supper. Brock, sweetheart, do you drink?”

“I do.” 

“Oh good. With all that nastiness going on I’m sure both could use a stiff drink.”

Jack stepped out of the room to find his father already getting up. “William,” Jack’s mother said as he entered. “Where is that honey whiskey you’ve been hiding.” 

His father looked a bit defensive a moment. “Woman, that stuff is hard to find.” 

“William.” she said sharply and he threw up his arms. 

“Fine, I’ll be back.” 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. Brock looked confused. “Don’t mind him dear. When he finds something he likes he feels the need to hide it from everyone. It’s very nice, even I enjoy it.”

In all their time together, hanging at bars after getting off the night show, Brock had ordered Bud Light and nothing more. He didn’t expect Brock to agree to drinking something with that many calories. He wondered if it was him trying to prove to Jack’s mother he wasn’t a proper omega. Or maybe he really was in need of a stiff drink. His father came into the room, cradling the bottle in his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” his mother sighed, taking the bottle. 

Soon they were seated and his mother folded her hands for grace. Brock did too and an emotion Jack didn’t have a name for made his lung decompress. “Thank you Lord for the meal we’re about to have. And let Brock and Jack find the monster out there hurting innocent people. Amen.”

Jack wished the murders hadn’t happened here, so close to home, so close to his parents. But he would find the sonofabitch. He caught Brock’s eye and knew that he was thinking the same exact thing. And that was why they worked so well together. 

The tomatoes were exactly as expected, a bit sour perfectly balanced with the crisp breading and rich creamy, tang of the dip. He was taken back in time to when he got this meal every birthday, the smell of chocolate cake in the air and the buzz of excitement at the wrapped gifts on the countertop. When he opened his eyes the happiness had remained. It lingered through the meal, Brock chatting easily with his mother about life in the city. She asked about the skyscrapers and the odd people in New York City. Brock said he didn’t get to Times Square much, too much hassle. His mother agreed that traffic up there must have been awful. She was right. 

“So what part are you from?” Jack’s father asked. 

“Brooklyn.” Brock said it with pride. 

Jack knew it wasn’t the up and coming part of Brooklyn but instead the low-income crime riddled area. But Brock didn’t care about that, all he cared about was how far he’d come. 

“Ah, I knew he had some funny accent.” Jack’s mother said proudly. “I can’t begin to tell you how nervous I was when Jack told us he was leaving.” 

“We took good care of him.” Brock assured him. “He found his beat pretty fast.” 

“With you?” his mother’s expression was calm but her tone suggested a second meaning. Brock saw right through it. 

“He’s a good partner, he always has been my six when we’re going into potentially dangerous situations.” 

“Hmm,” his mother drawled, forking a cube of cucumber. “You know the Derby is coming up. Will you be around? Your father won tickets in the Scout’s raffle.” 

Jack had been so wrapped up in the case and convincing Steve it was a good idea that he had forgotten about the tradition of going. 

“We’re due back May 4th,” Jack said. “If we’ve closed the case and Brock wants to, I don’t see the harm.”

He really wanted derby cake. That was a big part of it. 

“That’s the horse race right?” Brock asked. 

“It is.” 

“Sounds interesting. How much is it?”

“I won tickets,” his father said again. “Your money is no good here.” 

Jack had a beat of worry but Brock didn’t get defensive or snarky the way he would have at home. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have it all wrapped up.” 

It was nice his father had so much faith in him. Starting a new investigation was always overwhelming but Brock was good at it. 

His father poured them glass of whiskey, prefacing that the general store only got it in four bottle increments every few months. “Have you considered driving out to Paducah?”

The look he got said that was a definitive no. That wasn’t surprising. People in Rosebay were community based. They looked at outsiders warily and leaving it was nothing short of torture. But not Jack. Somehow he’d broken the mold. The whiskey was smooth, with the signature warm feelings going down and very pleasant aftertaste of honey. His mother sipped hers and then got up to get pie for dessert. Brock cast him a wide eyed look and Jack smiled sheepishly and shrugged. He probably should have warned him about southern comfort food but he had a lot on his mind. After almost forcing down a huge slice of pie with hand churned vanilla bean ice cream made by the mennonite community just out of town which was the furthest his mother would ever travel, Brock and Jack volunteered to do dishes. His mother fussed but then went out to check the garden to ensure Jack hadn’t hurt her herbs in his quest for fresh dill. 

“Jesus,” Brock said quietly. 

Jack was washing and nodded his head. “I forgot to mention.” 

“I’m gonna gain fifty pounds here.” 

“That’s a bit excessive. Maybe twenty.” Brock elbowed him in the side and Jack laughed. “She wont be happy until you’ve got a little weight on you, unfortunately.”

“Oh great. Also, I didn’t know they were religious.” 

“They don’t go to church, they’re more of a worship at home type. If you feel uncomfortable you don’t have to participate,” Jack said quickly. 

“I don’t mind. It’s interesting.” 

They dried the dishes and headed upstairs to look over the folder again. Brock studied the photographs while Jack read through his parent’s account. They hadn’t noticed anyone around the property in the days prior. His mother was hysterical between how terrible it was to find them and about her rododendras. That night they didn’t notice anything strange, no one around the house. Their bedroom was on the back side of the house so it was possible the killer had transported them by car. 

“Evidence of sexual assault on all of them.” Brock said with a heavy sigh. “But no DNA, no fluids. Nothing.” 

“Do rapists usually rape anyone regardless of dynamic?”

“Most stick to one, they have a type. This is so generalized that typically I’d think we have more than one offender.” 

“They treat the omegas the best.” 

“Yeah, I was thinking about that too. It’s not as violent as the others. They take the eyes, yes, but they’re replaced with perfect roses. Their arms are crossed for a funeral rest. Only bruising is around the neck. And that creepy as fuck smile.” 

“Okay, so they respect the omegas.” 

Brock hummed in disagreement. “No, if they respected the omega they wouldn’t leave them out in the open like that, naked and exposed. Then again the bodies were all left in the open, like they wanted them found. So maybe you’re onto something.” 

Scrubbing a hand over his face Jack posed, “So where do we start are you thinking?”

“Well, I’d say we find out what stores sell lye and start there.” 

“You don’t need much lye to burn off fingerprints. It’s not as easy as looking for a bulk sale.” 

Brock nodded. “Maybe we can have Riley and Sam look over it while we find out about bleach. Divide and conquer and all that shit.” 

Jack mustered a smile. “It’s a good start.” 

“And I’m driving tomorrow.” 

“Of course you are.” 

** ** ** **

“I can check out the local hardware stores,” Riley agreed. “Lye is some pretty nasty stuff, you’d remember selling it I’d think.” 

“Jack and I are going to scout out grocery stores in the county and see if anyone remembers selling a lot of bleach and steel wools.” 

“It’s spring cleaning season,” Sam interrupted. “Everyone is buying a lot of bleach. Hell, Riley and I just bought four bottles.” 

“Fuck.” Brock dragged his fingers through his hair. “Okay, good point. We’ll focus on the steel wool then.”

“Unless they’re soaking the steel wool between uses.” 

“I don’t know, you might have something with the bleach,” Riley said. “Think about it Sam, they’re submerging the bodies. That’s gonna be more than four or five bottles.”

Sam considered it before nodding his permission. Jack never thought he’d back asking Sam for permission again but here he was. “Alright, go ahead and follow that. Keep in touch though.” 

“You got a rover?” Brock asked 

“A what?” 

“A radio,” Jack clarified and Riley walked behind the desk to grab one. 

“I mean it you two. I’m really putting my ass on the line.” Sam stressed.

“We’ll be on our absolute best behavior.” Brock said with a grin. “Trust me, where we come from you gotta play by the book.” 

Sam looked unimpressed so Jack added, “You know, I know what I’m doing.” 

After a moment, Sam nodded his head. “Go ahead. Riley, you can take the car.” 

“Yes!”

“You’re not using the lights.” 

Riley’s face fell. “Sam, this is police business. It’s of the utmost importance.” 

“You’re not using the lights.” 

Riley sighed dejectedly. “Fine. No lights.” 

** ** ** **

They stopped at the general store. Mostly it was to get waters for the long journey but Jack thought it wouldn’t hurt to mention it.

“Jack!” Al cried, walking around the counter. “Your ma was telling everyone you were coming up here. Good to see you man.” 

The man embraced him tightly and Brock shifted out the way. “Big city man now huh?” 

Jack laughed. “Something like that.” 

“Who’s your little friend here?” 

A muscle ticked in Brock’s jaw but he held out his hand. “Brock Rumlow.” 

“I’m Al and it’s a pleasure to meet you Brock.” Al turned to Jack. “So rumor has it you’re here to solve these,” Al flickered his eyes towards Brock and lowered his voice, “murders.” 

“We’re here about the serial killer,” Brock said, voice clear and loud.

Al turned his eyes towards Brock in shock and Jack smiled stiffly. “We?”

“I’m a detective.” 

“Oh, wow.” Al looked stupefied. 

“Wow,” Brock agreed. “Has anyone bought a significant amount of bleach lately?”

Al blinked, shaking his head a bit “Bleach? No, just the usual sales.” 

Brock turned and wandered towards the coolers in back for drinks and Jack found himself apologizing. 

“I guess omegas from the city are different,” Al said. “Bleach huh? What’s that got to do with the case.” 

“That’s classified unfortunately.” 

Al looked confused. In this town nothing was really classified and he knew that by the time he left it would be all over town. That was the issue with small town investigations. The killer could easily know what they were looking for. Brock came back up with two tall bottles of water and Al went back behind the counter to ring them up. He looked towards Jack when giving the price but Brock quickly palmed his wallet from his back pocket and held out a crisp five dollar bill. Al looked even more confused as he counted back the change. 

“I’ll be in the car,” Brock told Jack. “Nice to meet you, Al.”

When the door swung shut Al started at Jack. “That’s one feisty omega, Jack. I hope that you know what you’re doing with him.” 

Jack wondered how many people thought that Brock was his omega. “He’s just my partner at work, Al.” and his friend but he knew mentioning that would bring the whole “he should be more than just a friend” conversation. “He’s determined, gets things done.” 

“I can see that. Hopefully he gets a bit more adjusted.”

“We can only hope.” 

** ** ** **

The day was a bust, they were on the road for hours, checking market after market trying to find a clue. Check-ins with Sam let them know that Riley thought he had a lead but turned out they were used in the soup kitchen the county over. So they regrouped at the station all feeling defeated until Riley said, “Those roses were fresh. Maybe we should check with a florist? I betcha Eve can nail down the type of rose.” 

Brock perked up. “Hey that’s a really good idea. Fuck, we should have thought of that first.” 

Riley smiled and Sam nodded. “Is it too late to catch the ME?” 

Jack looked towards the clock and nodded. “Okay, first thing tomorrow then.” Brock decided. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.” 

“I hope so,” Sam said. “Aren’t murders supposed to be solved within the first forty eight hours?”

“Most of them but not all.” 

“Plus the case has been sitting for over a week now,” Riley pointed out oh so helpfully.

Sam sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “This whole mess is awful and I just wish we could close it.” 

“Soon,” Jack promised his friend. “We promise.” 

** ** ** **

For dinner they had goetta and spoon bread with peach cobbler as dessert. Jack and Brock cleaned up and then went upstairs to add notes to the folder and regroup. When they finished Brock flopped against the bed. “It’s impossible to sleep here.” 

“Is the bed uncomfortable?” Jack asked, worried. 

“No it’s just… It’s too quiet. I lay here waiting to heart something, footsteps, cars, yelling…. Anything.” Brock sighed. “I don’t know what I expected coming here.” 

“I could get you a fan.” 

“No, don’t bother. I’m just complaining.”

Jack got that. Sometimes complaining was self soothing .”Hey,” Brock sat up. “I want to see your room.” 

“My room?” Jack panicked. “No, no you don’t. It’s boring.” 

Brock grinned and got off the bed. With a sound of distress he trailed along behind Brock to his bedroom. His parents hadn’t changed it at all and Jack had lost interest in changing how it looked when he was highschool. Brock pushed open the door and looked around the space. Old movie posters were taped up between sports memorabilia and polaroids of Jack and his friends in school. Brock took his time looking all over, poking at the desk that still had an ancient box monitor computer. 

“Football,” Brock commented, fingers trailing lightly over the jacket draped on the computer chair. “Why am I not surprised.” 

“There’s not much else to do around here.” Jack replied. 

Brock turned his focus towards the opposite side and immediately spotted what Jack hadn’t wanted anyone, much less Brock, to see. Immediately the omega doubled over laughing and Jack was red as a tomato. “Is that,” Brock paused, gasping for breath. “Is that what I think that is?”

“It’s a good movie,” Jack snapped. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Brock wheezed. “I thought I’d find some skin mags but, fuck, this takes the cake. Patrick Swayze is what you jerked off to as a kid?”

“No.” Jack said sharply. 

“So it was Frances… What was her nickname?”

“Baby.” Jack said before he remembered that no, he wasn’t supposed to expose this odd secret. “And no. I just liked the movie. Not everything is sexual.”

“No,” agreed Brock. “But you don’t hang things over your bed unless you’re looking to rub one out to it.” 

Jack’s face twisted as he tried, and failed, to offer another reason someone might. Brock’s renewed laughter stung. “Shut it,” Jack mumbled. “How would you like for me to go through your bedroom?”

“I’d say good fuckin’ luck. I slept in an actual closet ‘cos we lived in a one bedroom.” Brock grinned as if it wasn’t concerning in the least. “I did hang up a Terminator poster though. Not on the ceiling though.” 

Brock wasn’t the kind of guy to accept pity from anyone but it didn’t stop Jack from feeling awful that Brock hadn’t had the simple luxury of a bedroom. Brock sat down on the well worn quilt Jack’s aunt and nana made for his fourteenth birthday. It was a mix of sports prints and pieces of his baby blanket. It was something Jack had gone back and forth on bringing with him. He had ultimately decided against it but since he’d gotten back he was definitely having it mailed to him. 

“So this is where Detective Rollins grew up,” Brock announced. “How’s it feel to be home?”

“Good. I mean, it could be under better circumstances but it’s nice to see family and friends.”

“Your parents seem nice.” 

“They are. How are you settling? Besides the silence of course.” 

“Well, I’m consuming far too many calories and spending more time in a kitchen than I ever have.” Brock didn’t sound upset about it so Jack didn’t take it to heart. “Other than that I can’t complain.” 

“Well that’s good.” Jack pulled out the chair and sat down. “So you’ve never been to the Derby?”

“Closest I’ve gotten to a real life horse was at Central park where the useless cops ride ‘em.” Brock flopped backwards across the queen sized bed. “So Riley and Sam have a thing right? Like, it’s official.” 

“They’re married. Got married the year I left, I was Sam’s best man.” 

Brock sat up. “That’s so weird to me. Knowing your coworkers that well? I mean I know some personal stuff about the other officers but… Not like you do.”

“Small town,” was Jack’s own reasoning with a shrug. 

Dinner was fried chicken, corn pudding and fried okra. Brock ate the massive portion he was given to him by Jack’s ma and he even ate three bourbon balls on top of it. Brock seemed to have given up fighting it and embraced it as a vacation to indulge. His mother didn’t let them clean up, instead asking them to go gather some herbs. With a bowl they began to remove a few basil leaves. His mother did this when he was a child too. She liked to have fresh on hand and if not, homemade dried herbs were her go to. 

“Think we’ll find any fun herbs planted between all this?” 

“If there was it definitely won’t be them,” Jack laughed with a head shake. “She still calls it devil’s lettuce -- and completely seriously.” 

Brock laughed and Jack realized he really liked to hear Brock laugh. 

** ** ** **

Jack woke up to the sound of his door creaking open. He reached blearily for the lamp and cringed at the sudden light. Brock was frozen in place. “Brock? What are you doing?”

“It’s so quiet and you snore so I was just gonna lay on your floor. I want to be sharp tomorrow.” 

“You’re not laying on the floor Brock.” 

“Sorry, I’ll go.” 

“No, I mean, come share the bed. It’s big enough.” 

Brock looked uncertain so Jack scooted to the very edge of the bed and gestured at the open space. 

“You really don’t care?” 

“If I cared I wouldn’t have offered.” Jack was still half awake. Had he been fully awake he probably would have offered the bed and slept on the floor. But he was comfortable and warm and his omega should be too. 

Brock got into the bed and settled down. “I don’t snore,” Jack mumbled as he settled back himself.

“You do.” 

“Do not.” 

“Good night Jack.” 

“Good night Brock.”

** ** ** **

Jack woke up to an empty bed and hazy memories. Had it been a dream? No, Brock’s scent lingered. He got up, trying to clear his mind with a deep breath. He got dressed and headed towards the bathroom to shave. Distracted by his late night visitor he didn't even think about knocking. He opened the door and was hit by fog. Before him was the outline of Brock through the shower curtain just dark enough not to be transparent. Brock’s back was arched, soft mewls spilled from the shower to Jack while very obviously masturbating. Then he moaned, “Jack” and Jack’s mouth went dry while his dick was twitching in interest. Every Alpha instinct told him that this was an omega who needed him, who requested him, who needed to be knotted and claimed. 

Thankfully he got his bearings and quickly, and quietly, shut the door and knocked loudly. 

“I’ll be out in one second.” Brock called, sounding cool and collected much to Jack’s shock. 

Jack turned on his heel and followed the smell of coffee and breakfast. It was sunny side eggs, toast and pork sausage but Jack hardly tasted it. All he could think about Brock, about how he looked, about what he had said… There was no way to address it, nothing he could say without risking the relationship they had already. 

“Jack, honey, you barely touched your breakfast.” 

His mother rounded the table to lay the back of her hand against his forehead. She clicked her tongue. “No fever… You’re running yourself ragged on this.” 

“Ma, it’s only my second day.” 

“Maybe you should tell Sam you need a break.” 

“I don’t need a break.” 

“Don’t argue with your mother,” his father said through his newspaper. 

Jack sighed quietly in exasperation but the exhale was cut by Brock walking in. His hair was still wet and he was wearing a gray tee that was tight in all the right places and a pair of well worn jeans. “Brock, sweetheart, how did you sleep?” 

“Well, thank you.” 

“Oh good. Tea?” 

“I’d rather coffee please, Mrs. Rollins.” 

“I told you, call me Ava.” 

“Ava,” Brock smiled easily, like he hadn’t been jerking off and saying Jack’s name.

Jack had no idea how he was going to keep his composure. He couldn’t even look at him without the urge to grab and claim him. His self control was definitely going to be tested. Brock sat down in the open chair beside him and nodded. Jack mirrored the movement. This was going to be very fucking hard. 

** ** ** **

“So who’s Eve?” Jack asked at the station. 

“ Eve West. she moved here last year,” Riley said. “She has a big greenhouse just outside of town. Everyone buys their starters from her.”

Jack nodded his head. Greenhouses and roses definitely went well together. The ME faxed over a blown up photo of the rose and Brock tucked it into the file. Their ride to the station had been quiet but Brock apparently hadn’t noticed, too wrapped up in the case. Jack hated his reaction to this. He’d seen a private moment, he should have felt guilty for walking in but all he felt was regret because he hadn’t confronted him, got to touch him and see the way he looked when he came. 

Brock was his partner, Jack reminded himself, a constant mantra in the back of his head whenever his mind wandered back to the image of Brock in the shower.

“Hello?” Brock waved his hand in front of Jack’s eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you today.” 

“Nothing,” groused Jack, pushing the hand away. “I was...thinking about the case, is all. What were you saying?”

“I asked you what you know about the greenhouse owner.”

“As much as you do. She came here after I was in New York.” Jack shrugged. “Want me to drive?” 

Brock pouted a moment and Jack appreciated how pretty and plump they were. The perfect kind of the lips that could be nipped at after a long kiss. Jack took a deep breath, furious with himself. “I guess.” 

Jack caught the keys and was grateful for the distraction of driving. Brock was back leafing through the folder. “Betas stabbed exactly thirteen times. Thirteen has a lot of symbolism right?”

“Sure,” Jack nodded his head. “In Christianity Jesus was the 13th guest and he was crucified on Friday the 13th.” 

“In Tarot cards I’m pretty sure death is the 13th card.” 

“I took this feminism class at KCC and I remember the number meant something. I can’t remember exactly but…”

Jack hummed thoughtfully. “They weren’t the COD though right?”

“No, strangulation with a thin cord, by the patterns. They weren’t able to get any fibers to match because of the bleach. Other than that they weren’t bruised.”

“Trace amounts of ketamine makes me think that the killer was afraid of being overpowered.”

“Only the omegas had finger shaped bruising around the throat. The killer wanted the kill to be personal, by their own hands.”

“Looks that way.” Jack agreed. 

A hand painted sign was propped against a blue and pink mailbox, also hand painted, reading Eve’s Glasshouse. They pulled up to a sunny one story. The drive was lined with a long garden of flourishing with early bellflowers, corals bells and bleeding hearts, and opened up to an open space with a spacious yard on one side was a huge structure made of glass panels. 

“Jesus. I’m almost scared to go in. I kill just about every plant I touch.” 

Jack laughed. “Well, don’t touch anything.” 

“For her sake I’ll keep my hands to myself.” 

If only it was that easy, Jack thought when he watched Brock get out of the SUV. Jack killed the engine and followed suit. The house was painted yellow with white trim, wooden panelled with a black shingled roof. It was the kind of place an omega from Rosebay would live and that soothed Jack a bit. “Christ this place is bright.” 

“It’s nice.” It was warm, welcoming. 

“If you say so.” Brock walked up the steps, carefully avoiding the big potted leafy plants sitting at each side of the steps. There was a porch swing with a romance novel splayed open. There was a mug of tea sitting on the porch railing. Brock knocked on the door and immediately there was the sound of a dog barking. There was a muffled voice, soft and clearly from an omega. The door opened a crack and turquoise eyes peered out suspiciously. The look faded when she saw Brock and she opened the door completely. The dog in question was a mastiff of some sort with a brindle coat and sharp eyes. 

“He barks but he won’t hurt you.” Eve, Jack suspected. “Can I help you two with something?”

“We’re detectives looking for Eve West to help out the station with a case. I’m Brock and this is my partner Jack. We were hoping she can help us identify a flower.” 

“Oh, well I’m Eve!” she smiled brightly. “I think I can help with that. Would you like to come in for some tea and coffee?” 

“Sure,” Brock said and they were invited in. 

The dog remained outside.

The house looked like it was cut from a Martha Stewart magazine. It looked like it was hardly lived in, the perfect television image of an omega. Jack wasn’t sure why it unnerved him so much. The kitchen was a rustic chic, everything polished wood. Eve set a bright yellow tea kettle on the stove and turned to ready coffee. His mother was the same way when it came to guests, it was a Southern thing. Brock was adjusting well, no longer looking shocked at the hospitality. They sat at the circular table in the corner with a cheery yellow tablecloth. 

“I think I can guess your favorite color.” Brock said breaking the silence. 

She turned with a smile. “Yellow is a happy color. I can’t get enough of it! You’d look lovely in yellow. Everyone looks lovely yellow but you especially.” 

Brock smiled politely. “I’ll have to add some to my wardrobe.” 

Eve beamed. “What’s your favorite tea? I’m certain I have it.” 

“Chamomile.” 

Eve’s smile grew. “That’s my favorite too.” 

Jack noted that she hadn’t said a word to him. Some omegas didn’t trust Alphas and that was okay. He’d take the back seat and let Brock get the information they needed to proceed with their case. Once their drinks had been handed out, Brock pulled out the photos of the rose. 

“Oh,” she said, looking shocked before she smiled. “Forgive me, I’m just surprised to see a freedom rose so early in the season. They grow on bushes so they typically wouldn’t bloom until summer.” 

“Do you have a bush in your greenhouse?”

“I do. It’s in bloom because I had a request for an upcoming wedding -- would you like to see it?”

“Have you had any thefts?”

“Thefts?” she looked startled. “Oh no, Dandelion wouldn’t let that happen.” 

Dandelion seemed like a grossly incorrect name for a dog of that size and demeanor but Jack continued to keep his mouth shut, choosing to sip his coffee instead. She made a good cup of coffee, strange habits aside. “Can we take a look? We won’t touch anything.” 

“Of course. I’m going to let Dandelion back in while you finish your drinks and then I’ll show you the bush.” 

Brock smiled and nodded. She left and Brock cast a pained look towards Jack and mocked shooting himself in the head. Jack smiled. A few minutes later the sound of nails clicking against the floor came and the dog hastened in, making a point to sniffle the both of them before going back to Eve as she came in. They were an unlikely pair but an omega couldn’t be too careful these days. 

They drained their drinks and Eve led them towards the glasshouse. “It’ll be humid,” she warned. “It’s the only way to keep my flowers in full bloom.” 

“We can handle humidity, ma’am.” 

Eve turned around. “Oh, please call me Eve.”

“Eve,” Brock said obediently. 

She smiled and there was a new pep in her step as she approached the door. “Sit,” she commanded Dandelion who obeyed. She looked at them and clarified, “He likes to try and eat the fertilizer.” 

“Dogs,” Brock sighed in agreement. 

Eve flipped the outside latch and they entered. They were hit with a blast of humid air as promised and the earthy smell of soil and a sweet lingering fragrance of flowers.

The tables were ladened with pot after pots of plants. “It’s in the back,” Eve explained. 

The glasshouse was definitely bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside and that was saying something. When they reached the back Eve let out a horrified gasp and turned around with wet eyes. “Oh God, how could this happen?”

The bush was completely unearthed, the pot broken and soil spilled everywhere. 

Jack sighed quietly. One step forward, two steps back. 

“Why would someone do this to me?” Eve looked absolutely heart broken, eyes swimming with tear. “I… Why?”

Brock stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Eve spun around and hugged him tightly. Jack lightly stepped on soil and it held its shape, still moist. Jack frowned. The roses were still alive. This had to have been done recently. Very recently. He looked a critical eye towards her. 

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally knock this over today, Eve?” Jack asked between her sobs. 

She spun around, a wild look in her eyes, “Are you suggesting I’d kill my own plant?”

“I’m just trying to understand how someone would know we were coming to look at these plants.”

“The nerve,” she snapped. “I never should have helped you. This is my livelihood. How dare you. Leave, please.” 

Brock uttered an apology and followed Jack back to the SVU. “I think you’re onto something Rollins.” 

“Me too,” Jack said backing out of the drive. “She’s too…” 

“Perfect.” Brock laughed bitterly. “The perfect omega.” 

“She didn’t say a word to me personally,” Jack reminded him. “If she’s our killer this might just send her over the edge. Let’s go see Riley about getting a warrant.” 

“Not Sam?” 

“Sam and I aren’t exactly Judge Hudson’s favorite people. We weren’t the best kids.” 

Brock snorted in laughter. “Good boy Jack had a bad streak.” 

“If you could call it that. A few underage drinking run ins but we both cleaned up.” 

** ** ** **

“You’re insane if you think Eve had anything to do with this. Have you met her?” Riley protested immediately. 

“Yeah and I’ll bet you a thousand dollars she’s guilty.” 

Riley squinted at them and then sighed heavily “It’s not going to be easy to coax the good judge into issuing a warrant.” Riley sighed. “But I’ll do it, if you’re really that convinced. Leave your notes with me while I try to get her on the phone.” 

Jack and Brock went home for lunch and Jack’s mother, clearly expecting them, had thick corn beef sandwiches and a pile of homemade potato chips. Brock and Jack far too quickly, desperate to get back and see the status of the warrant request. His mother chatisted him but Jack and Brock were gone too fast for her to remind them to chew. At the station Shelley was back and waved cheerfully at Jack. He wanted to catch up properly with her, to tell her all about the big city stations like he promised to, but put a pin in it in favor of grilling Riley who grimly said they hadn’t gotten the warrant because there wasn’t enough evidence yet. 

“Fuck,” Brock spit collapsing in the chair. 

“I can’t say I blame her. A spilled pot and being too nice doesn’t make you guilty.” 

“Are there any other greenhouses in the area?”

“Hm, let me check.” Riley pushed himself from the coffee station to the desk on his wheely chair. “Uhh, only businesses. It could always be an employee. It could always be a customer.” 

“You weren’t there,” Jack pressed. “I’m telling you there something about her that’s not sitting right with me.” 

“I think you’ve just forgotten how omegas are around here.” 

Jack closed his eyes feeling a headache creeping on. “Okay.” 

** ** ** **

“Ma, do you know Eve West?” Jack asked between bites of ham. 

“Oh, Eve. Yes, she’s a darling, really. So sweet, helping me get the garden going this spring. She even came over and showed me how to add lye to the soil to make it more alkaline for rhododendrons. Isn’t that a handy little trick?”

Brock choked on his drink of sweet tea and his mother looked startled. Jack whacked Brock on the back a few times until he wasn’t hacking anymore. “Are you alright Brock?”

“I’m okay. Jack, we have to go.” 

Jack nodded getting to his feet. “Aren’t you boys going to finish eating?” his mother called. 

“Sorry, ma. We’ll back as soon as possible.” 

They jumped in the Explorer and headed towards Sam and Riley’s place, a log cabin the town had helped put together as a wedding gift. They left the engine running and Jack ran towards the door, pounding on it with his fist. Sam answered looking bewildered and just a little annoyed. 

“I dunno how they do things -- .”

“Shut up and listen,” Jack cut in. “Guess who was at my mother’s house putting lye in the soil by my mother’s rhododendrons.” Sam’s eyes widened a bit. “You cannot tell me that’s a coincidence.” 

“In the morning we’ll call Judge Hudson and see if she’ll issue one.” 

Riley appeared at his shoulder, plate in hand. “I dunno, Sam, she wasn’t too interested when I called.”

“She might not like me but she won’t deny me. The fact there’s a witness who saw her in the area still counts as evidence. And with the risk of more killings she won’t dare.” 

“Can you call her now?” Brock pressed. “We really upset her today. If she’s getting more and more unhinged then she’s going to kill again.” 

“Alright, alright. Riley stop chewing in my ear. C’mon in.” 

It was decorated simply, photographs of the two of them mixed with family photographs hung neatly by the door. A woodstove sat in the living room. The smell of hot brown filled the air and should Jack have not been running on adrenaline he’d probably be hungry. Sam got on the phone and stepped in the other room. 

Riley offered them food and a drink and when they refused he sat down and finished eating. 

After a painful ten minutes Sam came back out, grim but triumphant. “Well I’m now indebted to her but she’s faxing over the warrant. Fitz and Simmons are on tonight so you can swing by and pick it up while we get dressed.”

Jack nodded and Brock was already out the door. Brock drove to the station and jumped out as he shifted into park, legging it to the door. They waited for Sam, warrant in hand, anxious and jumpy while Fitz and Simmons played twenty questions with Jack about New York. Jack tried not to be short with the young officers but it was hard. Both Riley and Sam were in uniform. 

“You two are backup, understand?” Sam said firmly. “We want her alive.” 

Brock and Jack wanted the same exactly and nodded their heads in sync. The ride was tense and quiet, the single focus was on Eve and on what they would find. They were following Sam and Riley up the drive. The lights were all off which was unusual for six forty in the evening. The sun was still out, sinking, but there. Sam parked and Brock pulled up beside him. They got out, hand on their side arms. 

“Take the glasshouse, we’ll take the house.” Riley said and Brock nodded. 

They headed towards it, noting the latch was open. Brock carefully opened the door, sidearm drawn but the safety on. “Eve,” called Brock softly. “We have a warrant to search your property.” 

A high whine filled the air and Brock walked in. Jack followed and his stomach dropped. Dandelion had a knife in his chest which heaved with struggling breaths. “Oh God.” 

Brock dropped to his knees beside the door. “Go,” he said. “I’m staying with him.”

That surprised Jack but he nodded his head. The green house was clear and he left the door open. Sam was still knocking while Riley must have gone around back. Sam kicked the door open and Jack went around the side of the house and found Riley at the storm cellar door. 

“Watch my six?” he asked, glancing up at Jack who nodded his head in confirmation.

It was dark and cool, but there was light at the bottom. There were muddled scents down there and Jack knew this was it. They’d found her and the victims. As they reached the bottom steps he saw them, bound and gagged. Eve looked like nothing she had earlier. The dress was splashed with blood that must have Dandelion’s, her mascara running down her cheeks and a crazed look in her eyes. She was pressing a knife to the soft of an omega’s throat. The omega’s eyes were pleading, begging. 

“You just had to come here,” she said. “You had to ruin it. I-I’m helping them, making them better for each other but they don’t listen. You don’t listen!” The tip of the knife dug in a bit deeper. “They were going to be perfect for each other. They were going to be perfect.”

“They can’t be perfect if they’re dead,” Riley reminded her gently. “We can help fix them.” 

“No, no you can’t because you’re a Beta. You’re nothing. You’re worthless. Omegas belong with Alpha, that’s how it’s meant to be.” 

Riley nodded his head. “Okay, Jack, why don’t you explain it. You know better than me.” 

Jack stepped forward and the knife dug in a bit more. “Don’t come near me. You Alphas need to learn too. Learn to respect omegas, to cherish them.”

“You’re right, we do. But I don’t know how. Can you teach me?”

Eve huffed out a breath. “I can teach but no one really wants to learn.” 

“I want to learn.” Jack pressed. “Please, just let him go and we’ll have some tea and you can tell me.”

“Coffee,” she spit. “Tea is for omegas. You’re too weak, you’re better off dead.”

Riley’s safety clicked off. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I need to.” 

Eve smiled and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Gram was right. The world isn’t ready for people like us.” 

She pushed aside the omega and slit her throat as Jack dived forwards in a desperate attempt to save her. Jack heard the rasp of blood flowing in her lungs. He applied pressure and shouted for Riley to get an ambulance but he knew it was too late and there was no way to save her. It should have felt good for a killer to be taken from this world but it didn’t. 

It wasn’t a win, they had still lost. The killer had, technically, gotten away with it. No punishment could be inflicted. 

Sam came down and helped cut the restraints off the captives as the sound of sirens from the state police and ambulance cut through the late evening air. Jack felt oddly numb as the paramedics came in, one checking each victim the other trying to resuscitate Eve. Save for the traumatic experience and some lacerations from the binding they were okay. Eve however was declared dead. Jack climbed out of the cellar for air and caught sight of Brock walking towards him. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Brock told him. 

“She’s dead.” 

Brock swore.

** ** ** **

It took over an hour to get things straightened, gathering statements about what had happened. She had treated her cellar as sort of school, hellbent on teaching her captives how to be proper. The Betas were ridiculed, presented as the lesser dynamic. They ran Eve’s history and found that she had been locked in her grandmother’s attic her entire childhood and for two weeks after the grandmother had taken a fall down steps. Jack felt even worse that he wasn’t able to save her. 

The only positive in the entire case was that Dandelion was making a full recovery. 

“I want him,” Brock announced in the car as they were driving back to his parents’ house. 

“What?” 

“Dandelion. I’ve been meaning to get a dog, why not him? He doesn’t have an owner anymore.” 

“We’ll have to fly Delta.” 

“It’s worth it.” 

“Okay.” 

** ** ** **

Having so much free time was hard but they kept busy. Well, as busy as Jack could be still haunted by the image forever sear in his brain. Brock came into his room, and bed, often. On chilly nights he pressed close and Jack hoped he couldn’t feel his erection. If he did, he didn’t say anything.

The Derby came around and they had the traditional cake before going to their box and sipping mint juleps. Brock had even placed a bet. They sat side by side and Jack enjoyed watching Brock’s face light up with excitement as the horses ran around the track. Brock’s bet lost, as expected, but didn’t seem upset in the least. 

And then they were packing, Dandelion overlooking his new owner. Jack was more of a cat person but Dandelion fit Brock, perfect contrasts. He wasn’t sure how he felt about leaving. 

He missed the friends he’d made (and were working on making) and the city he had grown so used to and fond of. But he was going to miss his parents and his friends here too. So zipping up his suitcase came with a heavy heart. They loaded up the rig they hadn’t expected to be so trusty, Dandelion jumping into the back like he’d so a thousand times. Jack’s mother hugged them both and cried. His father’s eyes looked a bit wet as he hugged him goodbye. 

“You better call Jack. And you too, Brock.”

“I will, Ma.” He’d be better about this time. Late show be damned.” 

Then they were driving to the airport. “You know,” Brock said. “This wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Save for all the time in the gym I’m gonna have to spend.” 

“Yeah, it was nice to be with you.” It occurred what Jack had said suddenly and he looked at Brock to correct himself but Brock caught his lips in a kiss. 

Brock pulled away to look at the road. “You know, I kept waiting for you to grow a pair and kiss me but clearly I have to be the one to instigate things.” 

“I… You knew?” 

“Guys who aren’t interested in me don’t get hard when sleeping together.” 

Jack’s face went thermonuclear. “I’m sorry.” 

Brock snorted. “Don’t be. If I wasn’t interested I’d make damn sure you know it.” Brock laughed. “So now all that mess is out of the way when do you plan on taking me for a proper fucking date? The taco truck and Denny’s don’t count.”

“How about Burger King?”

“Oh, you think you’re funny.” 

Jack smiled and said, “When we get back.” 

“No shit.”

“Friday?”

“Friday sounds good.”


End file.
